coffee
by magnum opus
Summary: some things are better left forgotten. [postgame, complete]


_disclaimer: final fantasy vii and its characters are property of squaresoft, inc. no profit was made in the creation of this fic. _

_nb: easily substitutable with original characters, but i wrote this with scarlet and reeve in mind, so yeah._

_-  
_  
**coffee  
**_by magnum opus_

-

Some days, he questions his decision to let her live with him.

For seeing her each day only serves to bring back bad memories of a past he would rather forget. It is awkward for him as he tries to keep what he says in check as he avoids her questioning gaze and busies himself with mundane routines of no consequence. He wonders sometimes if his careful charade is more for his benefit than hers.

Some days, he suspects she thinks the same thing.

This morning, she is sitting on the bar stool watching him prepare the coffee over the kitchen counter. Her blonde hair is tied back in a messy bun, and she nervously fingers the collar of the loose nightshirt she is wearing. He realises with surprise that she is actually rather petite.

"…­ Reeve?"

Her voice has a girlish quality to it when she is not in the office, something he is still trying to get used to. He nods his acknowledgement and waits for her to continue.

"I had a dream last night." She shifts slightly, stretching her right arm across the counter and leaning her cheek against it, her fingers idly tracing circles on the cool surface. "Reeve…­ am I a bad person?"

The coffee maker sputters to life. He slowly retrieves two mugs from the drainer and turns towards her with a smile on his face. She fails to look him in the eyes.

"What makes you think that?"

"I…" She sits up, her fingers fluttering to the patch of permanently dead skin below her left eye, caused by a second too long on hot metal. "How did I get this?"

"An accident," he replies a little too quickly, and tries to make up for it. "At the plant. There was a mechanical failure, and…"

"Oh…" She stares out the kitchen window above the sink behind him. It is raining today. Perhaps he would be staying in then. She supposes she likes the possibility. "I dreamt about that, you know."

"… Really?"

"Mm-hmm…"

There is a loud beeping behind him. He thankfully shuts off the machine and pours the coffee into two mugs. Two lumps of sugar and a dash of cream in one, which he pushes into her hands. She stares at it for a while before looking up at him with wide blue eyes.

"You like your coffee black."

"…­ What?"

She hesitates, rotating the warm mug by its handle. "You like your coffee black. You think people who put in additives shouldn't be drinking coffee, because it means they don't even like it in the first place. You had a coffeepot in your office because the coffee from the vending machine was always watered down and had all the stuff the previous person ordered." She pauses and looks up at him hopefully. "Is that…­ right?"

"…­ Yes."

"And…" She chews her bottom lip contemplatively. "And I'd always pop over because of that. You'd always have a cup ready for me. And I'd sit at the edge of the table and we'd joke about…­ Pa…­ Palmer and Hei…­ Hei…"

"Heidegger." He tries to relax the tight grip he has on his mug before she notices. "You used to make fun of the way he laughed."

"Yes!" She claps her hands together and jumps up from her stool excitedly at the sparse memories. He grimaces slightly at the faintly regal posture she is starting to adopt. "And you used to be nasty and retort that I sounded like a hyena when **I** laughed." She frowns at him, the expression so familiar and yet so different to him. "Did I, really?"

"No. No you didn't." He is not sure if he wants the conversation to continue. "Finish your coffee, it's getting cold."

"Okay." She remains standing, sipping from the mug carefully. He brings his own to the sink and rinses it out. It is starting to storm outside and he can see bolts of lightning striking at the makeshift lightning rods placed along the road leading from Kalm to the Midgar excavation site. There is no way he can make it out there today.

A particularly bright bolt of lightning flashes across the sky. The crash that follows almost drowns out the sound of the breaking ceramic behind him. He whips around to see her horrified expression, hands clapped over her mouth.

"Scarlet? Scarlet!"

She does not move, seemingly lost in a world of her own. He crosses quickly towards her and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly to get her attention. She blinks dazedly and looks towards where he is touching her. He drops his hands immediately and clumsily stuffs them in his trouser pockets, before deciding it is better to pick up the broken pieces on the ground instead.

"…­ Reeve?"

He does not answer and proceeds to dump the pieces in the trashcan. The dishcloth seems to be missing, so he grabs a handful of paper towels to sop up the mess.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" he snaps before he knows it. She looks hurt, but he does not feel like apologising. "Did you get cut?"

"You used to think..." The corner of her lips is starting to curl up into a sickening smirk, and her hand goes back up to caress her scarred cheek. He feels the blood drain rapidly from his face. "You used to think I was beautiful."

"…­ Does it matter?"

"You also said…" She continues as though she did not hear the question. "You said that it didn't matter what other people thought of me, that I was perfect the way I was. You said that there are layers to every person and that it is what is in the heart that is important, and not what the person does that matters. I used to laugh at you and call you a fool."

There is a numbness spreading through his body. His fingers tremble as he presses them against the edge of the counter.

"And you'd just look at me seriously and say…" Her eyes widen as the sequence plays. "You loved me." She gasps and turns towards him in disbelief. "You told me you loved me, and I said…"

He slumps defeated against the kitchen counter and waits for the blow he knows is coming.

"I…­ I said…­ I don't know." She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. "I don't know what I said. I can't remember." She grips her hair in frustration. "I can't remember!"

He wavers in indecision for a moment before approaching her. She buries her face in his shirt and he can feel tears begin to seep through to his skin. He places his hand gently on her back and she chokes back a sob.

"You've done enough remembering for today. Maybe you should just take a break."

Her voice hitches and she looks back up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I just wish…­ I wish I could remember how much I loved you."

Every day, he hopes she never does.

-

( end, 30042004 )

-

_**author's notes:**  
just something to get me started on writing again, hence the shoddy standard. i hope you didn't mind too much._


End file.
